Keeping the Panic at Bay - Missing Scene from HoB
by PiercedBlueCat
Summary: What happened after John came to their room after seeing the therapist. Short nonsense h/c thing.


**Keeping the Panic at Bay - Missing Scene from HoB**

Summary: What happened after John came to their room after seeing the therapist. Short nonsense h/c thing.

_Standard disclaimer: Sherlock, John and all other mentioned characters belong to BBC and the guys who invented them. I just borrowed them for fun. I wrote this for my personal delight and improving my english, no copyright infringement intended. No money changed hands __and no profit is being made._

_This was written because it kept running through my mind and I wanted to do a character study. First story ever._

_Un-beta-ed! _

_Would love to hear what you think and if anyone wants to do a beta let me know. I wanted to do this in British English, so I'd like to know about any spelling or grammar mistakes._

_I have no medical knowledge and do not know if i followed the right procedures!_

After the conversation to Henry's therapist John wandered a bit aimlessly around the pub, realizing he wasn't sure if he wanted to go to their room and face Sherlock right now. Right now he wished for his own room, but this had been the only vacancy. Thank god they got one of those, not a double room, though it wouldn't really matter cause Sherlock usually didn't even try to sleep during a case. He'd have the bed for himself. He wondered if he'd get any sleep while here.. Sharing the same room whith a hyperactive detective…. Who was thinking loud all night, great.

He was a bit unnerved about Sherlock's plump manipulation to make him speak to the doctor. And his comments earlier had stung, yes, maybe more than stung, but, while sitting at the tables in front of the pub alone in the dark with only a lantern here and there John thought again how Sherlock had acted during their 'discussion' a few hours ago.

Now that he thought about it, he had never seen him this desperate, desolate, out of control… even disoriented if he was reading the signs right…. He had been agitated by his feelings, for god's sake, the man never even blinked while threatened by several guns or other mortal dangers. Only Moriarty had managed to provoke a reaction of… disturbance, fear?…that had past fast right after he had stripped John of the bomb. The man was a rock and hours ago he had been shaking with anxiety… he had a panic attack, and… of course he had all those feelings humans had but they seemed to be different with Sherlock. He would describe them totally different than the usual human being, maybe even feel them different - everything was so intense about Sherlock. John had seen in many different situations how Sherlock was able to mask his feelings entirely or act them if he thought necessary, with astounding precision and very convincingly. The average fellow citizen reacted to the first with irritation, often even hostility, sometimes interested and observing but quite often unnerved. He himself had been unnerved by it several times in the past, though he had known since his first day as Sherlock's flatmate he had quite intense emotions, just hid them carefully, entrusting almost nobody ever with them… yeah, sometimes it was pretty rough to live with that or with the grumpy behaviour that comes with a new set of experiences.

Sherlock seemed not to be able to connect a normal description of an emotion to what he felt, to find the right words…. No, that was wrong, he just needed time to sort it out, compare it, translate the average human's description into his mind - trial and error in this field. He observed - intense like today, being as honest and sarcastic with himself as he was with other people. Though usually he did this kind of observations in private. The fact that he had entrusted John with these today was… partly warming John's heart now that he thought about it. He not only let John be a witness of how he was, he had even tried to talk about it… yeah, but the matter at hand had disturbed the discussion about exactly that matter - the panic attack had bugged his analysis… why the aggression?

John had thought about taking Sherlock to their room but his shaking and breathlessness had made him doubt they would've made it without making a scene. And Sherlock wasn't listening to him… well at least not to the level that would usually calm someone down.. Maybe John's lack of understanding the situation at first (out of sheer denial about what was enfolding before his eyes - anxiety attack - Sherlock? No way!) Sherlock had turned away in frustration which had manifested in yelling about him being fine.

John wondered what he had been doing after he had left. He shouldn't have left him out of sight - even though (or maybe because) he had tried to get rid of John by being harsh and insulting… He should have stayed, as invisible as possible nearby he now realized. Considering to which level Sherlock was able to force his feelings behind his mask the attack must have been very rough, due to what _had_ reached the surface. This indicates that a normal person would have been probably screaming on the ground out of his mind hyperventilating on a level close to passing out…. Yeah, Sherlock had had problems forcing his respiration to follow his will but he had stayed present and focussed.

Had he sat at the fireplace much longer?… Well at least long enough to find out who Henry's therapist was and that she was in the pub. John was sure now he would have been much to unsteady to have walked to their room without help for at least another ten minutes after he had left. Dammit, he should have kept an eye on him. … But he had needed time to cool down… maybe Sherlock had calmed down, too. He was ready to go check on him now…

He ordered two drinks at the bar before heading for the twin room.

Stopping in front of the door he listened… nothing… He tried the door as quiet as possible - it was open. The room was only dimly lit by a small lantern with a candle inside and Sherlock was sitting with his back to the door in one of the two comforters. His hand rested against each other in the familiar position. He didn't react to John's entrance.  
John stopped being quiet and moved louder than usual to make Sherlock realize he was there. He placed the glasses in front of him on the small table, getting out off his jacket and threw it onto a nearby stool. Then he stepped closer to the silent man to try to make him communicate and make a abrasive examination of his behaviour. When he stood in front of Sherlock he hadn't reacted at all, not even blinked. He was staring blindly ahead, obviously not seeing what was happening around him.

"Sherlock?" John asked gently. Sherlock was still trembling and in serious worry now John knelt down in front of him, this can't be good.

"Sherlock? …. Can you hear me?" No reaction, now this alone wasn't unusual but the shivering … and he was still paler that normal, his breathing was laboured and sweat was visible on his face.

"Sherlock, I'm gonna touch you. " He warned in a calm voice. The moment he gently wrapped his fingers around Sherlock's wrist the man jerked back in surprise, making a startled noise.

"It's alright, Sherlock, it's me… just me …" Sherlock's eyes were now wide open in panic and he gulped for air, flailing to get rid of John's touch. John stepped back, his hands outstreched.

"Easy… easy!" John raised his voice "Come on, don't do this… calm down…."

Sherlock's surprised expression showed at least recognition, he was aware who John was.

"I want you to calm down now, we're perfectly safe here, we are able to defend ourselves, nothing is gonna happen, everything is quiet and safe." Sherlock didn't react other than staring blankly ahead, though he was panting now. Had he been in this state the whole evening?

"Sherlock, I can help you with this. I know exactly what it feels like to go through this kind of anxiety attack, had quite a share after I came back…. you don't need to do anything, just go with what I do or say." John rubbed his hands against his own arms to warm them up a bit, then stood in front of Sherlock.

"Close your eyes, I'm gonna switch on the lights." Sherlock ignored the warning and blinked when John lit the bedside lamp.

"You now slow down your breathing a bit, Sherlock… do some deeper breaths …." He saw Sherlock's jaw muscles clench but the change in breathing was so minute that he decided to push a bit more.

"Come on, a deep breath now, … breathe in…. and out…." Sherlock was at least trying to follow his instructions, that was a good sign. He repeated the instruction several times.

"… Breathe in…. I will touch you now…. And breathe out….." he stepped closer again and put one hand gently on Sherlock's forehead and slipped the other behind the back of his neck. Sherlock jerked slightly and blinked several times but didn't move away or panic more.

"That's it, relax…. And another slow deep breath…. In ….. and out…." He himself breathed with the rhythm while just standing there holding Sherlock's head. He was surprised Sherlock allowed him to do this, he had expected resistance. This worried him even more. He waited, Sherlock managed to breath easier, but the shaking remained the same. His skin was clammy and he was tensed up to the max.

"I want you to lie down, on the bed…. Can you walk?" John asked, Sherlock's only response was a minute shake of his head. John slowly let go of his head and turned to the bed. He flipped back the duvet.

"You can't walk or you don't want to lie down?" John tried to make him reconnect to reality.

"No sleep…" it was only a hoarse whisper.

"You don't need to sleep, just lie down a bit. You're white like a sheet and you need to relax, your muscles will be sore in the morning from being all tensed up for hours, come on…" Slowly he slipped his hands under Sherlock's armpits and around his waist to help him up.

Sherlock was not eager to go to the bed. A wave of dizziness washed over him once he was upright. Orientation was slipping when the room went darker and moved around him. John felt him sway and gripped him tighter then dragged him towards the bed.

"Sit down." John pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed and saw Sherlock's coat on the floor. He must have let it fall or thrown away in frustration, though his scarf was still around his neck. John removed it having no difficulties keeping him sitting since he was stiff as a board.

"What drinks did you have?" he looked around the room for used glasses. "Booze? Water?"

"Just the drink a'the bar." Sherlock answered now a bit more present.

"OK, let me get some water. You're ok sitting here for a moment?" after Sherlock nodded he took his pulse to make sure he wouldn't faint and fall, then hurried to the mini-bar for a glass. Seconds later a glass half full of water appeared in front of Sherlock's face. The stressed man just stared at it.

"Drink."

"Whatisit?" Sherlock seemed to have problems focussing now.

"Water, pure countryside tab water, maybe from a nearby spring."

"Want bottledwater…"

"What?… Why?"

"The guide didn'trusthe water."

"For god's sake…." He went to the bathroom again, poured away the water and took a bottle of water from the bar. While rummaging at the bar with his back to Sherlock he added a dose of the sedative he had given Henry before and which had been still in his pocket.

He returned to Sherlock with the new glass and placed it in his hands, even though he was trembling he trusted him to hold it.

"Mineral water, new bottle, sparkling." John informed

"You put somethin'in it?"

Dammit, even in this state Sherlock's observing skills were working enough to realize this…. Like on autopilot. Well he had proven to have a good skilled one of those before.

"Sherlock, I know you already said you have no friends, but as your doctor - not your friend - I believe you trust in my medical skills - so as your doctor, listen to what I say: just drink it! You're sweating a lot and you need rest, just drink it and lay down." He helped him raise the glass to his lips and Sherlock looked up at him, directly into his eyes, frowning, almost staring, an odd expression of sadness or maybe guilt in his eyes.

Sherlock suspected he had drugged the water, but during the past two hours he had had deep regrets for his words about not having friends, almost to an amount that made him want to go search for John and … and since he could't think of a way to take the words back he left the idea. He got even more frustated with his words when he thought about how John was keeping up with him though he was such a nuisance so often. He knew and saw every day that John cared. Nobody had ever cared about him like John did. The fond touches John had given him in the past minutes left a warm safe humming somewhere in him… and now John was guiding his uncontrollable hands. Gratitude swept over him and it was like another heavy wave of emotions threatening to rush him away…. What was it with his feelings today… they were are _all_ exaggerated he realized…. Not just the fear or the sadness, the shame, and the anger about his body betraying him… all much to intense, hard to endure… and needing so much energy to be kept at bay. He was tired and lost … and drank the whole glass in one move.

When he began to drink John let go of his hands and began rummaging in his bag, bringing a stool and some stuff to the bed and fetching clothes from the ground.

Sherlock wanted to put the glass to the nightstand but his aiming was so far off that John jumped to catch the falling thing cause he placed it aside the surface. He gently took Sherlock's shoulders and upper back and pushed him slowly down sideways. Then he lifted his legs onto the bed which resulted in Sherlock laying on his back in a slight twist due to the small bed. Sherlock didn't move, he remained in the exact position John had let go of him and stared at the ceiling.

"Sherlock?" John took his wrist again, the pulse was still way to fast. "Do some more deep breaths for me, will you…?" he encouraged.

Sherlock started slowly sucking in a shaking breath and John opened his shoelaces to remove his friend's footwear, the socks he left. The doctor opened his medical bag and put a very small amount of Aloe Vera Salve on his fingertip.

"This smells good, I'll put some on your face. It's just a lotion. I want you to inhale the scent and concentrate on how soft and good it smells and feels." He applied some lotion on Sherlock third eye point with gentle pressure and some more next to his nostrils. Sherlock inhaled slowly.

"Get comfortable, relax… the bed is soft and warm…" he tried to coax him into relaxing.

"No, 'ts not." Sherlock argued

"Then at least lie in a comfortable way." John suggested the shivering man while sorting through the blankets and covering Sherlock with the warmer ones. When Sherlock didn't move he unbuttoned his sleeve from the outstretched arm that was hanging over the edge of the bed. He started rolling it up and sat down on the bed next to the prone figure.

"Whatare youdoin'?"

"Taking your blood-pressure. Any nausea?"

"I'm fine, just leave it…" It sounded almost like a plea and now Sherlock started to move, slowly dragging his arm away.

"No, you're not, you're cranky and still fighting the panic attack, now would you please shut up and let me do this!" John's voice had become louder and this could be interpreted as a bit harsh.

Sherlock's breath hitched once more and he squeezed his eyes shut. John took his wrist once more but Sherlock jerked back. "Don'touch me!" He turned away to lie on his side, back to John.

John sat on the bed, counting to ten and hoping for the sedative to work soon. Was a normal dose enough or had Sherlock such a high tolerance that it'd be effectless? He stared at Sherlock's back for a minute and noticed the trembling was worse than ever. He knew Sherlock didn't like to be touched.

Just when he decided to take a shower to clear his head and give his friend some space Sherlock moved.

"John…." his voice was hoarse and shaky and he sounded terrified… as he slowly and powerless rolled back into a supine position. His face was white as a sheet and his respiration shallow and fast.

Now he didn't fight when John took his wrist again to check his pulse and then rested his hand on Sherlock's clammy forehead. What had just happened?

"What is it? How do you feel?" he asked. Sherlock blinked slowly, while obviously trying to concentrate on breathing deeper once more. His silence was a bit unnerving for the doctor.

"Dizzy…"

"That's absolutely normal while having a panic attack or in the aftermath, your respiration adds to that, too. Just rest…. Any nausea?"

"Before, yeah… Now...feels odd… weak.. pressing down on me…heavy" Sherlock's breathing slowed down.

"The latter are ok, I gave you something to help you relax, just go with it…"

"You druggedme?" Sherlock blinked slowly, his voice low and slurred but lesser panic and no anger.

John moved his thumb over Sherlock's pulse point to give him comfort, most people found this calming and comforting. Though John was not sure why Sherlock didn't fight his touch now. His breathing deepened and John could feel his body slowly starting to relax a bit under his hands. So this _was_ comforting the tense man. Sherlock's eyes slowly closed half but stayed that way probably still taking in everything around him, but his gaze was unfocussed now.

"Sleep, Sherlock…. I'll make sure to wake you in case you start to dream… just sleep…"

Sherlock seemed to be drifting but then a minute shake of his head showed John he still wasn't ready to let go. Though he relaxed further and exhaled with a silent groan.

For about five minutes the only movement in the room was their breathing and John's finger still moving over Sherlock's wrist slowly…. And now and then Sherlock blinked.

When John realized Sherlock wouldn't sleep anytime soon he decided to do his best to find out what had happened. He removed his hand from Sherlock's arm which caused the detective to open his eyes wider again in alarm.

"It's ok, just let me check your vitals."

He took the sphygmomanometer from his bag and wrapped it around Sherlock's upper arm. His patient for the time being just watched him from under his half closed lids. Though obviously calmed and relaxed by the sedative it failed to knock him out completely, as it should have by now. He slowly unbuttoned Sherlock's shirt and warmed the stethoscope while putting on gloves. Then he auscultated his lungs and heart and examined him thoroughly for signs of being drugged or other complications.

"I'm gonna draw some blood, because I agree with what you said earlier. This kind of attack is not normal for you. I want to send the samples to the nearest lab in the morning for analysis." He expected a fight, a protest or at least any kind of disapproval but his friend just watched his every move.

John wrapped a tourniquet around his arm and rubbed his crook with an alcohol wipe. Sherlock drew a deeper breath, slightly agitated now.

"I know, bad memories… just relax, I'll hurry…." John put his hand back on Sherlock's forehead while waiting the necessary seconds until the site was sterile. He then inserted the cannula and drew five vials of blood. Afterwards injected Sherlock with some more of the already used sedative in an injectable solution. He didn't dare to administer an anti-anxiety drug because he didn't want to risk complications due to incompatibility of whatever had caused this episode.

"This will make you sleep, I'll be right here, everything is ok….."

Sherlock gulped weakly and John pressed some gauze over the injection site and guided his arm up to his shoulder for pressure on the gauze.

Gently shaking the vials to mix the blood with the different additives he stood up and slipped out of his gloves and then his shoes, afterwards put the samples in the mini-bar's freezer, all the time watching Sherlock who followed his every move.

When Sherlock's breathing went harder again and John saw him blink rapidly several times he suspected Sherlock was fighting the medication. He returned to sit on the bed's edge.

"Easy… don't fight it…" he tried to convince him. When Sherlock's hand jerked a few centimeters towards him and he saw a spark of panic in the half closed eyes he took his hand and wondered if this was what Sherlock needed. Was he really asking for contact? Wow, this was new.

"Just sleep…"

Sherlock's lids blinked once more, then his eyes rolled back and finally fluttered shut. His breathing deepened and John saw and felt his body becoming more and more heavier. It was a process that took several breaths until he was really limb and most of the tension gone. John had never really observed him fall asleep before he realized. Was it always such a fight or just now because he was to tensed up? Took it always such an effort to let go? He decided to keep an eye on this in the future. If it was he wouldn't wonder why he doesn't like to got to bed and try to sleep… or fall asleep, whatever the problem was with this.

He waited some more minutes, then brought the comforter next to the bed, lifted his legs onto the stool and took his book from the nightstand to read. Though John was on alert all night Sherlock slept through it almost without any problems. Once he got slightly uneasy but when John started to read his novel out loud in a low voice he calmed immediately.


End file.
